


Possession

by PeetaPan



Category: The Last of Us
Genre: DEAL WITH IT, F/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, They love each other, hypothermic cuddling leads to something more, trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 16:02:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5381375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeetaPan/pseuds/PeetaPan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four years after the events of the game, Joel and Ellie live together in Tommy's community. A near-fatal encounter with a clicker forces them to confront their feelings for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possession

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd -- lemme know if you spot any typos

He was fascinating, and stuck in her heart like gum in the hair. She didn’t understand him, at least, not at first. By the end, she knew him like the back of her own hand. He was gruff, bitter, worn rough around the edges. She saw herself in him. They just… reacted different, that was all. Same heart, but different minds. Different souls. Different bodies.

She’d grown up too quick. An adult in a child’s skin. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. She knew he would never love her like she did him. He would never feel the bone-deep craving she felt for him. His broad shoulders, weathered eyes, strong jaw. What did she have to offer? A scrawny, unfinished body, caught halfway between too young and old enough. Even if he could never want her physically, she still craved for him. They were a match, two sides of the same coin. No. Not the same coin. Like a shiny penny and old quarter melted together, making something new… but strange. Not necessarily bad.

She’d fought for him. Killed for him. She had every right to him. And he’d done the same.

She wanted him badly.

It’d been four years since the Fireflies. Four years they lived together. Four years they spent building a home out of the decrepit shack Tommy gave them. And in those four years, never once did Joel look at another woman. Ellie wanted to ask him why, but she couldn’t bear the possible answers. Any of which would snap the flickering hope right from her fingers.

She’d grown considerably. Not taller, but she’d filled out a little. To her disappointment, her breasts remained rather small, but unlike when she and Joel had first met, they now existed.

Sometimes, she felt jealous of Joel. He had plenty of suitors, women batting their eyelashes at him day-in and day-out. But no one wanted to touch Ellie. She was dangerous, damaged goods. Infected. Sure, she had friends. Tommy and Maria were nice enough, and the rest of the town was okay, but people still gave her wary looks now and then. Like she was a wild animal. Cute, but not to be trusted.

She wished she had someone to talk to about sex. The only person she knew well enough to discuss such things with was Joel, and he was out of the question. She wanted to know if she could have sex – or would her partner get infected? Could she even kiss anyone? How does her infection work?

She wanted to kiss Joel so bad. To feel his lips against hers, trailing down her neck, nipping at her collarbone…

She was sex-starved. And it was getting worse.

Every night, she would dream of him exploring her body, touching her in _just_ the right way, licking and biting until she was a babbling mess. She’d wake up, her cunt throbbing and hot as lava. But they shared a room, and she didn’t dare touch herself while he was asleep in the other bed. Which meant every day, she became more and more tense. More highly attuned to his presence. Every glance set her skin on fire. Every smile sent a bolt straight to her groin.

He didn’t even have to be doing anything, and it would make her ache something unbearable. He could just be whittling away at a stick of wood, eyes focused and intent. But she would watch his hands, fingers flexing skillfully, tanned and peppered with nicks and scars. The muscles of his forearms would make her weak at the knees, contracting and relaxing with every move he made. She would watch, drink her fill until she could stand no more.

She’d mock and tease him, as always, but the hunger remained. Growling just under the surface. So she would distract herself with reading – comic books mainly – and she’d talk to him after, telling him the stories she knew.

“You ever read X-Men?” she asked one day. He paused from polishing his gun to look up at her.

“Yeah, I reckon I saw a movie or two,” he replied, voice low and drawling. “There was a series of them, before…”

“I found a couple of copies of the comics,” she said brightly, sitting down beside him and promptly swiveling to lie down on her back, feet kicking in the air by his head. He said nothing, but his eyes betrayed a twinkle of amusement. “I really like ‘em. I fucking love Wolverine – such a badass. I wish _I_ had metal claws!”

Joel chuckled, continuing to clean his gun.

“I wonder what happened to the guy who played him in the movies,” he mused. “Hugh… Jackman, I think.”

“Was he as ripped as Wolverine is in the comics?” she asked.

“Just about,” he said. “Maybe he made it – I mean, you have to pick up _some_ combat skills from doin’ all those fight scenes.”

“If he did half the shit Wolverine does in the comics…” Ellie said, “I bet _Hue_ is alive and kickin’, killing clickers and fucking up runners.”

Joel smiled, but said nothing. Ellie studied him curiously.

“Who’s your favorite X-Man?” she asked, looking up at him. He paused, considering.

“Rogue,” he said finally. “I appreciate a good ole Southern gal.”

Ellie made a face.

“Ugh, I hate Rogue,” she muttered, turning away.

Joel stopped, surprised.

“Why?” he asked. “I’d of thought you’d like a badass chick like her.”

Ellie said nothing. She swung her feet around and sat upright, curling into a ball on the couch.

“She’s smart, beautiful, and kicks the shit outa bad guys,” Joel continued, looking curiously at his sullen friend. “What more could you want?”

Ellie mumbled something into her arms.

“What was that?”

“Yeah, but she’s a fucking leper,” Ellie muttered angrily. “Not even Wolverine can touch her without getting royally fucked up. Who’d wanna live that shitty-ass life.”

Joel stayed silent, clearly at a loss for words. Frustrated, Ellie got to her feet.

“I’m gonna go out,” she said, donning her coat.

“Ellie, wait --,” Joel started, reaching out to grab her shoulder, but she shrugged him off. The last thing she needed right now was for him to touch her.

“I’ll be back,” she said, grabbing her bow and quiver. Joel watched her carefully, cataloguing her movements.

“Don’t be out too late,” he said. She ignored him.

 

 

She liked the woods most of the time. Everything was covered in thick layers of snow. It was calm, peaceful. More importantly, snow meant you could track things. Make sure runners weren’t nearby.

She’d been following a buck for about an hour, trailing him from behind trees and bushes. He was a smart one, could hear her even if she avoided stepping on every single stick and leaf in her path. She liked the challenge. It distracted her.

The buck crossed a roaring creek, wide but not too deep. About waist high. She took her position behind a tree. He hadn’t heard her. She notched an arrow, breathing deeply, aiming carefully. He couldn’t see her. She let go – the arrow flew straight and true –

CLICK. CLICK, CLICK.

The buck moved at the last second, the noise of a clicker making her arrow miss. Ellie froze, terrified. The buck bounded away, out of sight in less than three seconds.

Ellie crouched, notching another arrow. She listened hard, trying to locate the clicker.

Silence.

She dared to peek around the tree trunk.

CLICK. CLICK.

The vile beast wandered into her line of vision, grotesque head emitting bone-chilling rattles. Ellie watched the thing carefully.

_If I could just make it across the creek…_

She weighed her options – kill the clicker and run, risk drawing attention, or try to sneak away.

As quietly as she possibly could, Ellie moved through the snow toward the creek. She held her breath, praying the clicker wouldn’t hear her.

_Just a little farther._

SNAP.

A twig broke beneath her foot, and the clicker whirled around, screeching.

“Fuck.”

Ellie ran.

The clicker chased her, as she scrambled across the snowy terrain.

_So close._

She dashed to the creek, leaping deftly from rock to rock, the clicker not far behind.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck.”

She risked a look back at the creature, and her footing slipped. She fell, hard, on the rocks, swept away by the icy and unforgiving water. She couldn’t swim. The water was only waist high, but the current was strong, and she couldn’t swim. Her skin felt as though it had been pierced by a million needles, the air knocked out of her lungs by the sheer coldness of the water. The freezing creek dug into her bones, and it hurt – a physical ache. She panicked, gasping for breath, reaching out for anything, everything.

Her fingers curled around a root, and her arm nearly ripped out of its socket. She fought hard against the current, pulling herself up.

_Come on, you fucking weak-ass muscles. WORK._

Teeth clenched near breaking point, Ellie clawed her way out of the creek, flopping onto the welcoming snow. Tremors wracked her body, but she staggered to her feet.

_Gotta get home._

One foot in front of the other.

_Gotta find Joel._

 

 

 

Joel opened to door only for Ellie to collapse at his feet, her lips blue and teeth chattering uncontrollably.

“What the fuck--,” he knelt beside her, pulled her into his arms. She was cold, too cold.

“C-c-c-clicker,” she breathed, curling into his warmth. “I f-f-f-fell…”

“Sh, sh,” Joel hushed her, trying to keep panic from his voice. “Don’t try to say anything. Fuck, we gotta get you warm.”

He stood up, cradling her like a ragdoll. She might be grown, but she was still light as a feather to him. Fear clutched his heart. She was dangerously cold, her skin like ice. He rushed to the fireplace, laying her down carefully by the hearth. He stoked the fire, desperately willing the flames higher. She shuddered, curling into a ball.

“Fuck, Ellie,” Joel muttered, distress coloring his words.

He looked around, spotting a blanket on the couch and retrieving it quickly.

“You gotta sit up, Ellie,” he murmured to the girl. “Can’t keep you in those wet clothes. You’ll catch death.”

She mumbled something unintelligible, unable to move.

Taking a deep breath, Joel began to undress her, throwing her sopping clothes in the corner. He averted his eyes, shame roiling in his gut as he tried to stamp out untowardly feelings. She was just a kid, for fuck’s sake. A nearly dead from cold kid. She needed him to take care of her, not take advantage of the necessity of removing clothing.

He pulled off her shirt, even as her arms fought to stay curled to her body for warmth. Her flesh was pale and toned, but Joel kept his gaze steady on her face. She needed him to focus, and he would. He would do anything for her. She wore a sports bra; he tentatively touched the straps. They were frozen cold with ice. He winced, having hoped not to remove her bra. After some awkward tugging and decidedly pointed (away) staring, he freed her from the compacting material.

His fingers hovered over the button of her jeans, uncertain. Steeling himself, he undid her pants, pulled down the zipper. Averting his eyes, he tugged down her underwear and jeans together. Goose pimples erupted along her legs, and she instinctively curled into a ball, shivering viciously. He refused to look at the creamy skin of her thighs, the hint of auburn curls that peeked from between her legs, the soft flesh of her breasts…

No, he covered her with the blanket, shielding her from his wicked gaze. He wrapped her tight in the thick, quilted cloth until she resembled something akin to a human burrito.

She still shivered, the fire doing little to warm her thin body.

Joel knew what he should do, knew what such a survival situation called for. But he couldn’t. His body would betray him. She didn’t deserve that.

But she deserved warmth.

He settled for rubbing his hand quickly back and forth across her back, creating friction. She leaned into his touch, but the trembling didn’t subside.

“P-p-please,” a whisper came from the bundle in his arms. “S-s-so c-cold.”

Her tiny body curled into him. She looked up, forcing her eyes open. Piercing green irises.

“J-joel. _Please.”_

He caved instantly.

Joel opened the blanket, throwing it around the both of them. Immediately, Ellie wrapped her arms and legs around his body, hugging him like a koala. Her slim calf slid between his thighs, seeking warmth, and Joel shuddered. Her skin was ice, but he felt on fire.

She had no idea the affect she had on him. The bone-deep craving he felt for her presence. The way his heart hurt every time she smiled at him. The way his blood boiled red with lust when she waltzed through the kitchen dressed in nothing but a ratty, overlarge t-shirt and panties. Especially when it was _his_ shirt. She liked to steal his clothes, but he couldn’t bring himself to make her stop.

Her hands slid under his shirt, across his back, a jolt of cold against his bare skin. She nuzzled her face into his chest, and he could feel her lips through the thin cotton of his t-shirt.

“T-thank y-you,” she whispered, her breath glancing across his skin.

“Of course, squirt,” he said, unable to keep his voice from rumbling low.

Her shivering grew less and less as his warmth seeped into her bones. She pressed as close as possible, reveling in the strong feel of his arms around her, admiring the span of his hands splayed across her back… ignoring the hunger as her breasts pressed against his chest. Yes, her shivering subsided, but she couldn’t make her breath level. It came in shallow, small bursts.

She felt warm, content – unwilling to extract herself from his embrace. His thigh between her legs. She pressed closer, hoping to be subtle, wanting to feel that strong muscle against her sex. She pushed her luck, running her fingers across the beautiful sinew of his back. Anything was acceptable under the guise of pursuing warmth. She felt him tense at her touch, but figured it was from the chill of her fingers.

Closer still she crowded, her stomach flat against his groin as he desperately willed his cock to behave. She could feel herself getting wet, sufficiently warmed, but now chasing a different sort of heat. His fingers moved of their own accord, pulling strings of wet, auburn hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear.

Her body felt on fire, and she knew her cheeks must be flushed. Embarrassed, she buried her face in his chest once more, breathing in his scent. He marveled at how delicate she felt in his hands, though he’d watched her take down plenty of men and runners alike. She was a balance of death and beauty, wrapped in an unassuming petite body.

He was absolutely in love with her.

“Ellie…”

He had to stop this now. She was naked in his arms, and he was _in love_ with her.

“Joel, please don’t,” she clutched him tighter, murmuring into his chest. Possessiveness flooded his veins.

“Ellie, I --,” he didn’t know what to say.

“Don’t go,” she said, looking up at him.

She was too close, her cheeks, her eyes, her _lips_ – too close.

He could see individual freckles.

She stared him down, pleading. He couldn’t say no to her. He never could.

She couldn’t keep herself from drinking him in, his handsome jaw, deep hazel eyes, thin but soft looking lips hidden beneath a prickle of beard. Before she could stop herself, before she could think, Ellie darted forward, pressing her lips to Joel’s.

He froze beneath her.

She pulled back, panicking.

“Fuck, Joel, I’m – I don’t --,” she began.

His lips silenced her.

He threaded his fingers through her hair, cradling her head in his palm, exploring her lips and mapping every crevice. She gasped – beautiful, wonderful – in his arms. His tongue darted out, tasting her bottom lip, and a small whimper escaped her throat. Her hips twitched involuntarily, grinding against the denim of his jeans. He groaned into her mouth, rolling them – hovering over her – absolutely taken by the fiercely lovely girl beneath his fingers.

Her hands were everywhere, tracing every bit of skin she could reach, nails digging into his back, clawing him closer. She wanted him, she wanted everything he would give her. His whiskers tickled her face, and she smiled into their kiss.

He pulled back, and the smile vanished.

“I can’t – we shouldn’t,” he said, looking away. She felt as though she’d been thrown back in that creek.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” she said, voice hollow. It hurt his ears.

“This isn’t… you’re just –”

“If you say ‘just a girl,’ Joel, I’m going to fucking knee you in the groin,” she muttered mutinously, her thigh tracing warningly against his crotch. Joel shuddered above her, unable to look her in the eyes.

“Ellie,” he whispered low, broken.

“Hey,” she said, softened, cupping his face with her hand, forcing him to meet her gaze. “It’s just you and me, yeah?”

His eyes were uncertain. She leaned up, kissing him gently, chastely.

“Fuck all the rest,” she said against his lips.

He gave in, wholly, completely. He belonged to Ellie. He kissed her hard, near brutal, trying to say everything his damn heart couldn’t. She responded, fierce, giving as good as she got. Her fingers carded through his hair, gently scraping his scalp, and a shiver ran down his spine. He dug his fingers into the pale flesh of her hips, and she ground up against him, his cock hardening against her belly.

“Nghh, _fuck,”_ she gasped out at the sensation. “ _Joel._ ”

The inner beast within him growled, possessive. He had to make her say his name – she was his, only his. And he was hers.

His lips kissed down her jaw, fluttering along her neck. She panted harshly, hips bucking at the feel of his beard against the tender skin. His tongue darted out, tracing and sucking harsh patterns, desperate to mark her up, so she’d know she was his. Half-choked moans met his ears, and he nipped playfully at the lobe of her ear.

“Fuck, _fuck,_ you are _so_ wearing too many clothes, dude,” she managed, pulling him up to look her in the eye. “Take your fucking shirt off.”

Joel grinned, her swearing made his heart swell. She was so beautiful, feisty, full of life and sarcasm. He would do whatever she asked.

He sat up and pulled his shirt over his head. Her hands immediately darted forward, eagerly tracing over the newly exposed skin. She ran her fingers over his ribs, tracing across his torso, reveling in the rough feel of the hair on his chest. Her nails trailed down his stomach, sending shivers in their wake, stopping at the button of his jeans. She looked up at him, suddenly uncertain. He covered her hand with his.

“We can stop,” he murmured fondly. For this girl, he would wait forever.

“No,” she said, defiant, and he nearly chuckled at her stubbornness. “No, oh god, I don’t wanna stop.”

She hesitated, looking up at him.

“I just… is it safe?” she asked, tentative, ready for disappointment. “I don’t – will I infect you?”

Joel leaned down, wrapping her in his arms. He smiled into her hair, kissing along her neck.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” he assured her. “It spreads through the blood stream. Just don’t bite too hard, and we’ll be fine.”

“You sure?” she asked, uncertain.

“Damn sure,” he replied, holding her close.

She grinned, eyes alight with lust.

“Fuck yeah,” she smiled, kissing him hard on the mouth, grinding her hips into his. “You are still way too dressed.”

He chuckled. “Guess I am.”

Her fingers fluttered down, undoing his pants, pulling them down as best she could while still kissing him. Her hand cupped him through his boxers, and he breathed harshly into her mouth, her fingers tentative but confident at the same time. His lips suckled down her jawline as she caressed the length of him, deft little strokes leaving him panting against her neck. His reaction made her ache between her legs, cunt throbbing as his fingers dug into the flesh of her ass.

“ _Fuck,”_ he breathed into her skin.

His moans made her wet, throbbing, _hungry._

He took her hands in his, threading their fingers together, pressing her gently into the floor. He kissed down her neck, lavishing her collarbone, before travelling lower, and nosing against a pebbled nipple. She gasped, fingers tightening between his. Joel’s tongue flitted across the sensitive flesh, sucking and licking at her, as her panting became more and more uneven. He kissed his way across her chest, paying double attention to her other breast. Every lick, every nip sent bolts of lust straight to her clit, and she whined, hips bucking against his thigh, desperate to touch herself, to be touched.

“Fuck, _please_ Joel,” she panted, begging for less, for more – she didn’t know.

He kissed her again, untangling one hand to reach between her legs, parting soft auburn curls. She made a sharp noise against his mouth, a look of hard concentration on her face as he traced her sex, softly, gently – not nearly enough. She was unbearably wet, her thighs slick with the juice of her cunt, and Joel had to bury his face in her neck, moaning at the feel of her against his fingers.

She was beautiful, perfect, warm and inviting – her lower lips swollen with arousal, her hips jolting at his every touch to her clit. She wasn’t going to last much longer. A possessive thrill clenched his heart; he wondered how many times he could make her come in one night.

He slipped in a single finger; she was so hot, but not too tight like he’d expected. She was pleasantly relaxed with arousal, and pride rippled up and down his spine. She was ready, and oh so willing to take his cock. Her body begged him to.

Not yet, he told himself. He curled his finger inside her cunt, searching for that bundle of nerves. A choked moan tore from her throat, and he grinned, stroking that secret place, his thumb rubbing circles around her clit, until her thighs trembled, until she spasmed beneath him, until she cried his named – panting, undone, beautiful. She could feel the pressure building, every nerve in her body ready to snap. His fingers were magic, playing her like an instrument, making the most lovely noises. Her body seized up, cunt milking his fingers, muscles fluttering, trying to pull him deeper – the most delicious groan ripped from her throat. She came like a goddess, he thought. Powerful in the throes of ecstasy.

He kissed her deeply, tongue tracing her lips as she came down from her high. He expected her to be tired, to want to sleep. She’d been through quite the ordeal, after all.

But true to herself, Ellie almost immediately rebounded, cheeks glowing and eyes alight with an insatiable hunger.

“ _Fuck_ that was hot,” she said, rolling to straddle his hips. She could feel the hard length of him through his cotton boxer-briefs, pressing hotly to her cunt. She groaned, smiling, grinding her hips against him. His fingers clutched at her hips, nearly sliding off from the remaining slick of her arousal.

“Oh fuck, Ellie,” he panted, hips snapping up of their own accord.

“If you ask nicely,” she grinned, wiggling on top of him.

She scooted down to perch on his thighs, reaching up and pulling down his boxers. His cock jutted out, hard and proud, and she couldn’t help but touch it, curious and unbearably turned on. She reveled in the affect she had on him, stroking him several times, before he reached out to stop her.

“Keep doing that, this’ll be over before you want it to be,” he said as way of explanation. She grinned, pleased with herself.

“Sorry, old-timer,” she giggled, and he surged up, kissing that adorable grin off her face. Wrapped in his arms, she felt loved, protected – perfect.

“Can we?” she asked, breathless.

He nodded.

She reached down, feeling for his cock, guiding it between her legs. She was so wet, so _hot_ , and she sank down on his cock, taking him inch by inch, brow furrowed and a wordless cry on her lips. He rubbed soothing circles on her back, kissing along her jawline, trying to distract himself, control himself from thrusting up into her perfect, tight heat.

He was deep, so deep,  _too_ deep, but not enough. She felt so full, so hot and _fuck_ he was inside her, and it was better than she could’ve ever imagined. She didn’t feel any pain – and it surprised her. She expected pain; all the girls told her it would be that way. But Ellie didn’t feel anything but an overwhelming sense of fullness, warmth, and love.

“ _Joel_ ,” she breathed against his mouth. “Fuck, Joel, I—”

Hands on his shoulders, she lifted herself off his cock and sank back down, a small, strangled gasp stealing from her lips. He panted, like the breath had been knocked out of him. His grip tightened, fingers digging hard into her hips.

“ _Fuck me,”_ she commanded, looking him straight in the eye.

Joel broke, fucking his hips up in a slow deliberate pace, punching a moan out of Ellie with each thrust. She clutched onto him tightly, fingers scrabbling for purchase across his broad shoulders, panting uncontrollably into his neck.

“ _Nghh, oh fuck, Joel.”_

That possessive animal awoke in his chest, and he rolled them over, resting his elbows on either side of her head, and he looked her in the eyes as he fucked her, her heels digging into his lower back as she snapped her hips up to meet his pace. Her green eyes sparkled, eyelids fluttering half shut, as she fucked herself back on his cock, as always, giving as good as she got.

He could feel the pressure building behind his spine – her tight heat, beautiful face, unbearable gaze…

“ _Fuck.”_

He reached down with one arm to feel where they were joined, rubbing her clit in time with his thrusts. He’d be damned if he came before she did.

Ellie’s eyes widened, a choked yelp forcing its way past her lips, and she clung to him, eyes brimmed with love and lust, fingers digging into the corded muscle of his back as he fucked her, touched her, consumed her.

The world exploded, and she spasmed beneath him, a beautiful moan punched from her lungs, as her insides convulsed, contracting around him, pulling him deeper, closer. He fucked into her once, twice, and followed her over the edge, pulling out, painting her trembling, twitching stomach with his seed, a low groan tickling her ear, his beard rough against her skin.

She kissed him, hard, before he could catch his breath.

“I love you,” she whispered, worried, fierce, defiant. As if it were possible he might not love her back.

“I love you,” he echoed, breathed into her, against her lips, filling her with the words of his heart.

It’d never even been a question.

He’d been hers from the start.


End file.
